Hor. For I to thee and thine immortall name,
In flowing numbers fild with sprite and flame, To thee Loues mightiest King,
Himen ô Himen, does our chaste Muse sing.
Asin. Ther’s musicke in this.
Hor. Marke now deare Asinius.
Let these virgins quickly see thee,
Leading out the Bride,
Though theyr blushing cheekes they hide,
Yet with kisses will they fee thee,
To vntye theyr Virgin zone,
They grieue to lye alone.
Asini. So doe I by Venus.
Hor. Yet with kisses wil they fee thee, my Muse has marcht (deare roague) no farder yet: but how ist? how ist? nay prethee good Asinius deale plainly, doe not flatter me, come, how?—
Asin. If I haue any iudgement:
Hor. Nay look you Sir, and then follow a troope of other rich and labour’d conceipts, oh the end shall be admirable! but how ist sweet Bubo, how, how?
Asini. If I have any Iudgement, tis the best stuffe that euer dropt from thee.
Hor. You ha seene my Acrosticks?
Asi. Ile put vp my pypes and then Ile see any thing.